Where are the tears?

I've never wished I could cry so hard as I wanted to today.

Our director, at Sunnybrook, recently asked for one of us staff members to consider working with DHS part-time during a part of our afternoons, to help build rapport with them. I volunteered, knowing that it would be a chance to learn and that it wouldn't change my hours much. Today was my third time pulling a half-and-half day.

I had one of the DHS workers introduce me to a boy of only 7 years old today, he's going to be one of our kids at Sunnybrook shortly. She asked me to talk to him for awhile while she went to talk to her supervisor, so I did. He seemed timid and afraid of me, so I backed off...realizing that I wasn't doing any good. Finally, after about 20 minutes of sitting there letting him play with his toys, he asked me, "What are you going to do to me?" I responded by telling him that I was here to be his friend and that later I was going to take him to see the family that wanted him to live with them for awhile. He just turned away, I tried to be kind to him, but I knew my chances of being his friend or confidant were slim, so I just sang songs and occasionally smiled, laughed, or congratulated him on something he was doing.

When the Caseworker came back, I asked her if I could see the boy's Psych Eval. She hesitated for a moment, but went to get it for me when I explained that I would end up in the Treatment meeting and filing it at Sunnybrook soon enough.

This boy was one of 5 children in his home. And there was an eleven page section on their history of sexual abuse from their father. With each page the descriptions got worse and worse, and it didn't stop there. The father had not only done terrible and perverted things to all of his children, he had taught the boys to do it to their sisters as well...I've never before hated someone I'd never met before...but I burned as I read on.

I can't understand. I don't want to understand. Their father is in prison now...but in his case, I think death would be too kind. I want to cry. But I can't. I know God can work through anything we go through in life, but why do people have to be like that? I've never hurt so much for a kid I don't even know, and I can't even imagine the life that those kids have lived.

I suppose I might sound ridiculous. And I do realize that I knew what I was getting into when I started this, and I can do it. I just wish they didn't have to take it.

God please be with those children.